


En Passant

by dorkilysoulless (custodian)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Castiel in the Bunker, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2402018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/custodian/pseuds/dorkilysoulless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is ancient beyond imagining, a strategist, and a warrior.  The chess board intrigues him.  Sam is only too happy to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	En Passant

**Author's Note:**

> [En Passant](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/En_passant) is a special rule in chess regarding the capture of pawns.
> 
> Written as a fill for [Hellatus Prompt Fic Tuesday](http://itfeltpurefic.tumblr.com/hellatus) on my Tumblr blog.

Castiel inspects the chess board.

It is a simple thing: an eight-by-eight grid, sixteen pieces per side, and six ways to move them. A child can learn such a thing. A man can busy himself with it. An angel…

“Hey Cas,” Sam calls from the library door. “You seen Dean around?”

“Yes,” he says, without looking up. “He felt we needed more coffee. And burritos.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Castiel nods, absently, as he picks up a knight. It’s highly stylized. Fanciful, in what he expects is now an outdated way.

“You play?” Sam asks.

“I…no.” Castiel turns to look at him, knight still in hand. “But I understand the theory.”

Sam grins. “Set it up. Let’s play.”

It’s an easy enough task. He’s practically finished by the time Sam drops into the chair across from him, still smiling. It’s peculiar to Castiel how such a large man can seem like a boy at times. It’s a distinction he’d never have been able to make before knowing the Winchesters.

Would that all the angels could be so aware of humanity’s nuances.

Castiel settles into his own chair.

“Black or white?” Sam asks, fingers already on the edges of the board, poised to turn it. It’s currently set for Castiel to play black to Sam’s white.

“White has a statistical advantage.”

Sam nods, and starts to turn the board, but Castiel raises a hand and shakes his head. “No. That was simply a statement. This is fine.”

“Works for me.” Sam licks his lip, reaches out, and moves his first pawn.

Castiel responds in kind.

They play in not-quite silence, speaking mostly only after one another’s moves. Sam’s face is oddly expressive when he plays: a grin when he sees an opening, a raised eyebrow when Castiel does something novel with one of his knights.

For his own part, Castiel discovers that the act of playing brings him pleasure. He is a strategist. A warrior. He led a garrison for centuries. Simple though the pieces are, he finds that there is beautiful complexity in the interplay among them. The idea delights him, fills his heart. It is a new thing that he did not know before.

He looks up at the sound of the door, and the rustle of bags.

“Welcome back,” Sam calls out, then returns his eyes to the board.

“You’re playing chess?” he asks as he walks up to join them. He puts his bags down and moves up close enough to watch.

“Cas says he’s never played.”

Dean blinks, eyebrows raised. “How does that even happen?”

“It never came up,” Castiel answers. He frowns and moves his bishop. He takes Sam’s knight, but Sam counters, taking it with his rook.

“Ouch,” Dean murmurs as he sidles up behind Castiel and rests a hand on his shoulder. He leans in close enough that his stubble brushes at Castiel’s temple. His skin is warm. It’s…intimate. More intimate than usual with Sam in the room.

Sam leans back in his chair, arms crossed, content to wait while Castiel considers his options.

He slides his remaining bishop across the board. Dean clicks his tongue and stands. Castiel looks up at him, confused.

“Hate to say it, Cas, but Sammy’s got you in three moves.”

“What?” Castiel looks at the board, eyes narrowed. Sam’s in a position of strength, but three moves? That seems…unrealistic. “How do you know?”

“Easy,” Dean says as he steps away to pick up the bags. “Who do you think taught him to play chess?”


End file.
